Irish Coffee
by let-the-eli-in
Summary: He'd given her Irish coffee, simply to tease her yet again about her fiery red hair. [a collection of HousexCameron drabbles]
1. Coffee

She hadn't meant for it to turn out red. _Bright red_, at that. It was the silly result of a silly mistake, the product of her hand picking out the wrong box. Now, her once warm and lovely brunette tresses were replaced by a raging fire that attacked her from all angles. Her eyes burned with it every time she looked in the mirror.

He wasn't helping, either. In the mornings after he'd come limping down the hallway to greet her, and let out a hearty shout of 'Fire!', then ask why the smoke detector wasn't working. She loved that man, but she'd never quite get used to his chiding brand of torture.

Perhaps this morning things had changed a bit; he emerged from the kitchen with a cup of steaming coffee in hand. She rose from the table prepared to make her own, but he set the drink down in front of her. She stared at his unshaven face for a long time, as this was completely out of character for him. All the same, she lifted it to her lips with a smile of gratitude. He smiled back.

However, she began to choke on it. She set the cup down, glaring daggers at her smug-looking husband.

Irish coffee. He'd given her Irish coffee as yet another way to tease her about her fiery red hair.

"Top o' the morning to you, m'lady," he said in the finest Irish accent he could muster.


	2. Gold

_The things I do for her…_

In all the years of their association (as he habitually called their marriage), House had not known that Allison was a dog person. He never gave her 'ohs' and 'ahs' at the pet shop puppies a thought. He had assumed that she gave that response to every living creature she came across.

But now he knew, and that led him to his current situation. He was limping down the dank corridors of a dog pound, searching for her birthday present. Behind the chain link cages were dozens of mangy dogs, all whining at his presence. _Just like Cuddy._

There were terriers that nipped at their kennel mates, energetic collies being driven out of their minds, old dogs curling up in the back corner. The din of persistent barking flooded House's ears, making them throb. He wanted out of there, yet he had to leave with a dog by his side.

In all honesty, he didn't want one. Steve and Allison were company enough without adding to the family. How could he keep up with one, anyway? It would need walking, exercise and the like, and hell would have to freeze over before he allowed the walking carpet to snuggle between him and his wife in bed. But Allison had so subtlety hinted at her desire for a dog, and House couldn't refuse. Well, he could, but the couch was not at all comfortable.

Something golden caught House's eye. He turned, and saw a pitiful heap of orange fur lying in one of the nearby cages. He walked up to it, peering at it with ice-blue eyes. Seemed like a decent, quiet dog… but wouldn't Allison want something a little more perky?

The dog's ears lifted slightly, and he returned the stare. House was attacked by soft brown eyes that held an ocean of warmth in their depths. That appearance of sincere friendliness reminded him of his wife. _That's it; this is Ally's dog._


	3. Piano

"Gregory Edward House, get your butt over here this instant and teach me how to play!"

Oh, she'd used his full name that time. Now he knew he was in trouble. "But I don't wanna!" House whined pitifully, jutting out his lower lip to form an effective pout.

"But you promised!"

"Since when have I been a man of my word?"

Allison matched his pout, and being that she was his incredibly adorable wife, she quickly gained the upper hand. House tried to look in vain, but those puppy-dog eyes held him fast. Soundly defeated, he limped to the piano bench and sat beside his captor. "Fine. You win." He smirked. "Bet Wilson's just thrilled at the fact that you've got me leashed and collared."

Allison patted his head and cooed at him. "Yes, yes, now show me how to play, Greggy-weggy, that's a good dog."

Smiling at her mockery (_I've taught her so well…)_, House took her hands and put them over the keys. The interaction sent chills up her spine; she'd never get used to it, this closeness, his warmth. There was no price tag for it, nothing in the world she'd rather have in exchange.

House put gentle pressure on her fingers, and she obediently pressed down on a set of white keys. The notes were lovely, but she felt that they held none of the magic they contained when he played. Allison wondered if she'd ever be able to play like that.

For the better part of an hour House alternated between praise ("I should charging you for this - how many teachers can say 'play _Happy Birthday _in thirty minutes or less!'") and annoyance ("Excuse me, I must go dig a grave for my eardrums…"), but Allison paid more attention to the steady breath on her neck. So intoxicating, it was almost like a drug to her.

"Ouch!" She turned wildly to her husband, giving him her best scowl. "What'd you poke me for?"

"Pay attention."


	4. Can't

She could look at him as long as she wanted.

She could breath in his scent as deeply as possible.

She could listen to his voice into the long hours of the night.

She could do so much in this lovely fantasy she'd made for herself.

But she could not make him love her.


	5. Games

**A/N: About the last drabble… not all of them deal with a marriage between House and Cameron. Sorry if it threw you for a loop! **

---

"Can I have a try?"

It wasn't every day that Cameron asked her boss if she could even touch one of his prized video game machines. They were sacred and not to be tampered with. But five hours of clinic duty had taken it's toll, and the immunologist needed something to perk her up. Maybe killing off a hundred or so zombies would do the trick.

House tore his gaze from the screen to stare at her with incredulous eyes. "What? Sweet, naïve Dr. Cameron wants to take on the forces of evil? Say it isn't so!"

"You know me, always the crime fighter… now can I try or not? Please?"

The gruff man looked determinedly away. He could hardly believe that she wasn't conscious of her womanly wiles. Reluctantly, House handed over the device. "Lose once and I swear to God you'll be doing all my clinic hours - while having my cane embedded in your skull."

Cameron narrowed her eyes in response as she fiddled with buttons. A for shooting the gun, B for a melee attack, directional buttons for…well, going in different directions…

House dry-swallowed another Vicodin as he watched her play. He'd need the painkillers for the headache he'd have while cleaning up Cameron's mess. He'd never met a girl who could play a video game well and he didn't think he'd find one in the brunette sitting across from him.

Half an hour later, and his little duckling was uttering muffled curses at the DS in her hands. It amused House, who let a soft grin invade his feature. She was sort of cute when she was angry. Sort of, that is.

"You know, if this isn't quite your speed, you can always try My Little Pony: The Game. Hear it's getting rave reviews-"

"-finally! All done. Thanks, House."

Cameron gave him back the machine, a satisfied smile parting her lips. She walked confidently out of the office, leaving behind a very bewildered House, who was staring open-mouthed at the screen.

_High Score!_

_50,000 pts!_


	6. Mountain

He stared at that threshold for a long time. Well, in hindsight, it must have been only for a few fleeting seconds, but it was long enough. Long enough to scare him out of his mind.

There she was awaiting before it, all covered in white, her bare shoulders practically glowing. The depths of her eyes shone with her happiness. House dulling wondered if she'd felt as happy at her last wedding.

He averted his eyes back to that doorway. It was entrance to their new life, the beginning of their contentment, and he was going to mess it up. Nothing new there; in twenty years he'd sneer about it, add it to the list of his jokes. But for once, Gregory House was living in the moment.

He bent down, ignoring his body's violent protests. With one sweeping motion he gathered his new wife up in his arms.

God, was he going to feel this tomorrow.

"Greg! What are you doing?" Her shock and concern was evident in her voice. House silenced her with a whirlwind smirk.

"Quiet now, Mrs. House, or there won't be any fun tonight!"

It was awkward and it was painful; the doctor who had once held himself high was leaning like a crumpling mountain. Pieces of him had broken off long ago, plummeting through a sea of Vicodin and misery. But today was new and different. Today he was going to pick up the shattered remains of his past life and throw them in some inner-city dumpster. Today had been a good day, and it was going to stay that way.

House became aware of his bride kissing him on the cheek. "Good job."

He didn't look back on his accomplishment. He just carried her to the bedroom, throbbing leg be damned.


End file.
